by Sophia James
‘You could bear me to stay another night? I’m honoured.’
That ready blush kindled once again, but Sophia merely shrugged. ‘Isn’t it normal for a husband and wife to share a bed? I always thought so from my parents’ example.’
‘That’s my belief, although I understand wives aren’t always as gracious about it as you. A reason for me to be thankful—at the very least my wife won’t insist I continue to sleep on a hard stone floor.’
He pushed himself up to lean back against the wooden headboard, careful not to allow the scant cover of the blanket to slip too far. The undulating shape of Sophia hidden beneath it drew his attention at once, a delightful landscape of hills and valleys he had traced with burning hands only hours earlier, and he clenched his jaw on the desire to reacquaint himself with its secret lines. Away from the anonymous cloak of darkness Sophia would object, surely, the dimness of the night having led her into behaving in a way she’d never countenance in the stark light of day.
‘Are you thankful?’ Mercifully oblivious to the ungentlemanly wanderings of his mind Sophia gathered her hair over one pale shoulder and shot him a suddenly serious glance that showcased her pristine profile. ‘You don’t regret our marriage? You’re quite sure?’
Fell avoided her searching look, his eye landing on the ring winking at him from Sophia’s third finger, catching the light that struggled through the curtain. It was a tangible reminder of the step they’d taken together, a joint leap of faith into the unknown, and he slowly shook his head.
Perhaps he should regret taking Sophia as his wife. Certainly it was a dangerous move, one that had already affected him more than he liked—or should allow. The lesson Charity had taught him muttered in his ear at Sophia’s shy gaze, something innocent and perfect and far too good for the likes of him.
I can’t allow last night—and my own foolish weakness—to blind me to the truth. If Sophia guessed my feelings, she’d be disturbed and rightly so; I’ve nothing to offer but safety from what she ran from and a man like me can’t expect anything more.
That made sense. And yet…
She offered him the chance of a family, children who would return his love without hesitation and help heal the tension between him and Ma. For all the risks involved in taking Sophia as his bride that rosy future was something he couldn’t turn away from, the answer to the prayers of a lonely boy grown into a man still crushed beneath the weight of his own inadequacy and questions about himself he couldn’t answer. Sophia was like an avenging angel sent to save him from his fate—his saviour and potential downfall rolled into one, his passion and his pain with no way of separating the two. The confusion their night together spun was something he would have to work through, the illusion of them having made a connection surely just that. How could it be otherwise, when Sophia represented the very thing Fell knew he would never be worthy of having in truth?
‘Of course not. Do you?’
‘No.’ Sophia twisted her hair into a loose braid, the turn of her head suddenly obscuring her face so he couldn’t make out the expression on it. ‘I don’t regret a thing.’
CHAPTER NINE
Fell wiped his forehead and with the toe of one boot nudged the rotting tree he had just floored. Many had been damaged by a vicious late-summer storm that had torn through the forest the day before and now they leaned down precariously, dangerously unstable and threatening to keel over with the slightest breeze. Thick boughs lay scattered among sodden leaves and more than one tangle of roots pointed accusingly at the sky, a gaping hole in the ground yawning where the tree had once stood. The once-peaceful forest was now a maze of hazards and until he’d made it safe again Fell had requested Sophia kept away—giving him time to think about things he’d long since imagined settled.
She returned my kisses in the darkness of the night and didn’t pull away, and even now she has a smile for me whenever I enter a room. Of all the things I expected of our marriage I never saw this.
But memories of smiles and kisses were by no means all that conspired to make Fell’s life complicated.
Thoughts of Sophia’s soft words had haunted him ever since she’d uttered them—I don’t regret a thing. They’d been a throwaway comment, surely, and no more than that—yet he couldn’t seem to master the pleasure they stirred at the back of his mind. The unexpected compliment was like a soothing balm for his riled soul, far more pleasant than it had any business of being for all it was damnably confusing. If he was sensible, he’d forget every word and maintain his defences, too canny to fall into the trap even if temptation called to him with determination growing by the day. Sophia’s kindness—for couldn’t that be all it amounted to?—might so easily trick him into believing she felt more for him than she ever could and surely he’d be a fool to offer sentiment there was no way she’d return.
For the rest of the morning and into the afternoon the sound of metal on wood rang through the trees, echoing around the forest to startle birds and send squirrels scurrying back to their dreys. It was only when his stomach gave a growl of complaint that Fell realised it was long past time for dinner, too absorbed in the rhythm of stacking and chopping to notice how much time had passed or that the clouds above had darkened further into stormy menace. Even so, it took the first drop of rain falling on to his pushed-back hair to make him straighten up and lay his axe across his shoulders, straining against the handle to stretch the tight muscles of his aching back.
He cast an eye over the rough piles of wood, making a note to return later with a barrow to collect them. For the time being he hefted as much as he could carry beneath one arm and turned for home, axe dangling from his free hand as easily as a child might swing a doll. Rain began to fall all around him, pattering through the canopy with increasing force until the heavens opened in earnest and a distant grumble signalled approaching thunder roaring in to accompany the downpour that soaked the back of Fell’s shirt. He lowered his head and ploughed onwards, boots stirring the wet leaves underfoot. It wouldn’t be long before he reached the cottage and then he could dry off before the sitting-room fire, steam rising from his damp curls as they shone black in the light.
If the sudden flit of a woodpigeon somewhere off to the side hadn’t caught his eye, Fell might have missed the wildly tilted tree. Instead he just saw it—teetering drunkenly, the ancient oak looked as though it might topple any moment and an unpleasant tingle threaded down Fell’s spine at the thought.
Anyone walking beneath wouldn’t stand a chance, Sophia included. That tree would come down right on top of them and there would be nothing anyone could do to help.
With a sigh lost to the stirring forest he set down his armful of wood and strode over to the oak, eyes narrowed against the sting of rain. Spending the time to chop through another thick trunk was the last thing he wanted with his stomach growling louder by the minute but the alternative didn’t bear thinking about. It would be on his head now if somebody was hurt and hunger was no justification to leave a death trap where anyone might stumble beneath it.
‘Good thing I told Sophia not to go walking,’ he muttered to himself as he hauled the axe on to his shoulder and looked the tree up and down, deciding where to land the first blow. It was vital he chose the right place to guide the trunk down safely, its huge weight more than able to crush him into the forest floor. Carefully calculating the angle of its descent, he marked the spot with the edge of his axe and then began to swing in earnest, sweat growing on his brow to mingle with the unceasing rain.
The tree was old and took a long time to surrender to the axe, but bit by bit Fell cut through the rings, each telling a year of history in the oak’s long life. He felt a glint of regret at having to bring it to a close, but the risk of leaving the tree standing was just too great, so precariously did it hang over a path often used by those passing through. Each swing brought it closer to falling until eventually the trunk gave an ominous crack and the t
ree began to move, so slowly it was hardly noticeable at first, but for the swish of its wet leaves catching those around it.
Fell stood back to give it room, following its unhurried lean forward with practised eyes. Any moment now it would pick up speed and come crashing down among the moss and soaked grass, a hulking beast of wood and bark quite capable of ending his life in turn if Fell didn’t treat it with respect. Fortunately for him he knew better than to stand in its way and surely there was nobody else out in such a storm to be caught in the path of a trunk whistling through the air with deadly force—
But for the bright red dress Sophia was wearing Fell might not have seen her. As it was he barely had time to watch her emerge from the scrub and peer around from beneath her soggy bonnet before her eyes grew round and she stood quite still, rooted to the spot and gazing upwards in paralysed terror as the oak swept through the rain and hurled itself towards the very place where she stood.
‘Sophia!’
His cry rang out above the snarl of thunder overhead, but he hardly realised he’d shouted her name as he threw himself towards her. All he knew was he had to reach her, push her out of the way even if it meant harm to himself—and as he closed the space between them and flung her bodily to the side he thought he could at least die peacefully in the knowledge he had traded his life for hers.
* * *
Sophia lay on the ground, one cheek pressed to the cold earth and her arms flung out like a child’s discarded doll. Fell’s shoulder had caught her square in the belly, forcing the air from her and leaving her gasping for breaths that came short and painful.
Where is he? Surely he didn’t—?
She wrenched herself to her knees, feeling her head spin with the movement, but pushing the sensation aside. Mere feet away the knotted trunk of the mighty oak lay defeated on its side, a jagged wound showing where Fell’s axe had brought it tumbling down. There was no sign of him, however, and with the coldest dread Sophia scrambled through the mud on her hands and knees to look among the fallen tree’s tangled branches.
‘Fell? Fell, where are you?’
The leaves were glossy with rain as she parted the boughs and looked desperately for any glimpse of Fell underneath them, searching for a glimpse of white shirt or curling black hair. Sickening fear and a slow creep of hysteria climbed up to choke her, horror and disbelief mixing to make her shake her head in instinctive denial.
No. No. This can’t be happening. Not again. Not after Papa.
Could it be? Sophia gritted her teeth on her terror and ripped the branches back with frantic strength. Had she truly caused the death of yet another man she cared for?
She should have stayed away. If she’d listened, done as she was asked, Fell wouldn’t have had to leap in front of her and save her from certain death—just as Papa had in a different way, leaving Mother a bitter widow with yet more reason to loathe her unwanted only child. It was history repeating itself in the cruellest way and Sophia felt her fingers grow numb as shock and terror turned her blood to ice.
Why didn’t I stay in the cottage? Why did I come to look for him when the rain started?
Fathomless guilt and despair enveloped her in a suffocating cloak and she stifled a desperate sob, still tearing through the branches. Her hands were scratched and sore from the rough bark, but she didn’t spare a thought for the pain, their sting nothing compared to the agony of never seeing Fell’s smile again.
A low groan made her freeze.
Two long, tanned arms bound in a torn shirt reached out from beneath the trunk, hands digging into the wet ground for grip. The rest of Fell followed them, mud-spattered but miraculously unharmed, and Sophia stared up at him from her crouch on the churned earth as he straightened up with a wince.
‘Lucky for me that ditch was there. You’d have been able to use me as a rug otherwise.’
A strangled cry fell from Sophia’s lips and she lurched to her feet. Fell stood large as life before her, fully intact and only a little rumpled from his fall, and without thinking she threw herself into his arms.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You could have… I could have…’
She knew she was babbling, but couldn’t seem to stop as hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Relief bloomed like a flower, although the choking grip of guilt and fear didn’t relax for a moment, sinking its claws into her heaving chest and wringing out each breath.
‘You could have died!’
Some distant part felt Fell’s arms come round her and cradle her gently against the front of his tattered shirt, her tears soaking into the already damp linen. The rain that fell all around them hadn’t ceased, although Sophia hardly noticed it pattering down on her uncovered head, her bonnet lying on the ground where Fell had thrown her out of harm’s way. All she could do was cling to him with shaking hands and relish the knowledge that he was alive. He was warm beneath his shirt and his heart beat strongly where Sophia pressed her ear against his broad chest.
Raw emotion ran its course as she and Fell stood together in a wordless embrace, both wonderful and terrible at the same time. Relief so strong it could have brought her to her knees still washed over her like a cool stream, but the spectre of guilt loomed ever larger, its dark presence eclipsing all else until there was nothing it hadn’t overwhelmed.
I so nearly struck again with my folly. Just like before.
She stepped back, reluctantly breaking the contact between their bodies, and at once felt the chill of a breeze flatten her wet skirts to her legs. Weak with distress, Sophia wavered, grateful when Fell took her arm in his firm grip but cursing herself for needing his help yet again. Was she always to be such a burden on him, just as she had been for those at Fenwick Manor? It appeared so—without speaking he reclaimed his axe from the ground and turned them both for home, steering Sophia through the trees like a patient dog retrieving a stray sheep.
Each step she took towards the cottage was agony, but not because of the old injury to her leg. Walking with Fell through the grey murk of the storm conjured memories she never wanted to revisit of the first time she’d felt such insurmountable guilt, almost twenty years before but living inside her each day like a malignant force. The awful, life-shattering wrong she had done in the past had almost repeated itself in the present, a ghastly mirror image of the tragedy she’d caused before. Mother had never let her forget her sins and surely Sophia didn’t deserve to—she was dangerous, a walking curse, and Fell had no idea what kind of woman he had allowed into his home.
His hand was warm on her arm, but nothing could chase away the chill in Sophia’s gut. She didn’t dare look up into his face, too frightened of what she might find there to risk a glance.
Perhaps I ought to tell him. He should know what he married, no matter my own shame. It’s the least he deserves after all I’ve done and might again in my foolishness.
* * *
She kept her focus on her hands as Fell stoked up the sitting-room fire, although out of the corner of her eye she watched him thrust the poker into the flames. His shirt was soaked through and showed every rough-hewn contour of muscle underneath, a sight both intriguing and painful as she wondered if she’d ever be permitted to touch them again.
With the flames leaping in the grate Fell dropped into his worn chair opposite the sofa where Sophia hunched. The light danced over his skin, glowing bronze in some places while others were thrown into shadow.
‘I asked you not to walk in the forest.’
Sophia flinched. Back at Fenwick Manor she would have known exactly what came next. With another sickening rush of dread she screwed her eyes closed, certain what was about to happen and knowing there was no escape. The rage would come now, a blistering stream that would echo for miles and bring tears to run down her blanched cheeks. Mother possessed such a talent for reducing Sophia to nothing more than a sorry heap of remorse, every mistake rewarded by a punishment that
always began in just this way, with Sophia trapped and unable to run from the venom about to cut down to the bone.
Her heart was beating too hard and too fast to hear Fell’s words, to begin with hidden beneath the rushing of blood in her ears. Waiting for the shouting to start was almost as bad as the punishment itself, a moment that stretched on with horrible menace Mother always seemed to enjoy—
But it didn’t come.
‘Next time I ask you not to go there, please listen. It was for your own safety and my peace of mind. I’d rather not have to dig my wife out from beneath a fallen tree.’ He raised a wry brow that dropped into a frown at Sophia’s frozen face.
‘Don’t be kind to me. I don’t deserve it,’ she almost whispered into her lap, lips dry and fingers locked tightly together. ‘I could have killed you.’
Fell scoffed, stretching his legs out more comfortably towards the hearth. ‘It was a mistake. An unfortunate one, I grant you, but a mistake none the less and one I don’t think you’ll make again.’
Sophia looked up at the nonchalance of his tone, eyes seeking his in the flame-lit sitting room. He looked back, watching her carefully now with a quiet wariness the shake of her head didn’t diminish.
He doesn’t understand. He’s staring straight at me and doesn’t truly see.